Relaxing in the sand, Wil looked around him. They were all there, but worse for wear. If he looked anything like them, he could be a walking dead man himself. He was the only one sitting up, the rest lay on the ground, limply trying to catch their breath.
“Loqwathar’s Balls,” Acey panted. “Is it always like that?”
“No,” Wil remarked, recovering his sense of humor. “Sometimes it’s hard.”
Acey made a wry face. “Lone Wolf, if I could raise my hand, I believe I’d hit you for that.”
The two men chuckled weakly, grinning.
© 2016 Dellani Oakes